


Aftermath

by queuebird



Series: Writin' Dirty 2019 [19]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Apocalypse, Limbo, Multi, Writin' Dirty 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queuebird/pseuds/queuebird
Summary: Arthur rubs his hands together and holds them out over the fire.





	Aftermath

Arthur rubs his hands together and holds them out over the fire. It’s been getting chilly at nights--they’re going to need to stop by the Burlington or something.

“Ah-ha!” Ariadne emerges from the dilapidated doors behind Arthur, boots crunching over broken glass. She’s holding four unopened pads above her head like they’re a WWE Championship belt. “I live to see another month!”

She flops down on the ground next to Arthur, closes her eyes against the fire’s heat. Arthur pats her head fondly. Her hair’s been cut close to her scalp since a couple weeks ago, when she declared it too ridiculous to maintain and waved utility scissors dangerously in front of Arthur’s face until he agreed to help her.

“We need to grab some jackets,” he tells her. She makes a noncommittal noise and rolls over to her back, stares up at the rapidly darkening sky about them.

They sit there in momentary peace as the sun disappears over the edge of the earth, an ending in itself.

…

Arthur had been the one to insist they leave the city, the apartment where they’d been living only a couple months before Armageddon. (It was quite the relationship test for two new roommates, but it seems to have worked out.) He’d felt a niggling thing in the back of his head, a voice whispering that they needed to _move,_ he wasn’t in the _right place._

Arthur’s fucked if he knows where the _right place_ is supposed to be--God knows everything is the same now, silent and creepy--but traveling sure as hell feels better than sitting on your ass and twiddling your thumbs at home.

They’ve been meandering their way down roads gradually less and less familiar to them, stopping at the occasional shopping center to stock up and look for civilization.

“I didn’t think this many people had left,” Ariadne comments mildly one day.

They’re sitting at a dusty restaurant bar. All the alcohol is gone, but they salvaged some whiskey glasses from a cabinet in the back and that’s basically the same thing.

Arthur taps his glass against the counter thoughtfully. “They might’ve gone after Armageddon. Traveling.”

“Like us,” Ariadne says. She’s smiling behind the rim of the glass.

“Like us,” Arthur says, and clinks their empty glasses together.

…

The voice in the back of Arthur’s head urges them onward, past every rest stop, hotel, townhouse, office, city, forest, river, cave. He feels bad for dragging Ariadne along, who’s okay staying basically anywhere, but he can’t stand being alone. Whenever he brings this up, she just shrugs, smiles brightly, and says “I like walking--’s good you’re getting me out anyway,” as if they’re just taking a stroll around the block instead of fleeing rows and rows of abandoned buildings.

They’ve reached an empty warehouse in a nameless city. Crumbling. Big windows, some covered in yellowing flyers. Lots of dusty furniture and junk--shelves, tables, desks. Bottles and boxes and books. Like someone, or some _ones,_ tried to live here and gave up.

When Arthur steps further into the warehouse, he realizes someone else is there.

He’s got his back to him. He’s broad, wearing a neat brown suit jacket. The cleanest thing Arthur’s seen in ages. Hair combed like it matters what anyone looks like anymore. He’s staring out the window like there’s anything to see but the end of the Anthropocene.

The man turns around. Arthur is struck by the fathomless sorrow in his eyes, and a niggling sense of familiarity. He reaches for Ariadne’s hand, but she’s not there.

“Time to go home, Arthur,” the man says, the voice in Arthur’s head.

…

And Arthur wakes up.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://queuebird.tumblr.com)


End file.
